Soulstuck
by Shiki Yomi
Summary: Gamzee's been hiding out, clinging to that head for a while now. He screams- pleads for him to speak to him, just once. Oh, if he knew how his love felt from the other side of the coin.  Rated M for language and necrophilia-ish?


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**"Soulstuck"**

Welp, this is my very first Homestuck fanfiction. It is PBJ/GamTav, inspired by speculation during Act 6's second intermission. The concept is simple- what if Tavros was able to see what all happened after his death the entire time, and he was bound to his deceased body? Review bunches please, but no being rude.

Rated M for Gamzee's language as well as the necrophiliac subject matter.

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><p>There wasn't a part of you that felt more broken than the rest. Each inch of your soul was filled to the brim with anxiety. Measure by measure, you thought that things would get better. It would have to eventually, right? People died, friendships came and went. One day your friend would be back to his ordinary self, and you would get to see him happy. Isn't that all that you've ever really wanted?<p>

You try to remember. Days spent with rhymes and colorful soda pop floated in and out of your think pan. It all felt like such a blur. Just when did things go horribly wrong? Violently, like animals, they killed each other. You were the first one to go. But you were stuck, you were. Those pair of constant unblinking eyes still belonged to you, and they had seen far too much than you would have liked.

Your body was turbulently strewn across the floor with your lance visibly protruding out from your torso. Things didn't go as you had planned. That little voice in the back of your head you made up wasn't speaking to you anymore. No more fits of self-confidence. It's not like Rufio was real anyway- just a name for a part of you that you wished were real.

With everything inside of you, you wanted to hate Vriska. You wanted to scream and cry, but you just couldn't. For all she had done to you, conspired against you, tormented you, paralyzed you, killed you- and in death you couldn't do or say anything else. She had got the last word in. Now it was your turn to merely watch from the inside.

You were dead, stupid, but still you tried to move. You tried to reach for a device, something to contact someone. This was worse than your first fall. You couldn't feel your legs once, and now you couldn't feel anything. Dead limbs refused to cooperate. Your eyebrows furrowed up with frustration as your soul jerked to and fro, though on the outside you didn't move, nor blink, or breathe.

Why in the world were you trapped this way? Is this what the afterlife was meant to be? Do you just stare off into forever with nothing but crippling weakness, chagrin and spiritual inhibition? Your perception of time was immediately fucked. The passage between landing to the ground with the sickening dislocation of joints and the moment you heard a ghostly gasp felt like seconds. Was it?

"Oh... oh my god," came the voice.

You had long learned to recognize that voice with that young budding legislacerator, Terezi.

She stood with her red tinted glasses disguising the subtle hurt in her eyes. No, she was already upset before due to Dave, but now with this on top of it, she wasn't all that thrilled. Perhaps the only thing to give her motivation now was the fact that this was her self-proclaimed forte. It was now time to figure out who had been behind this heinous crime.

"Farewell, Tavros Nitram."

Terezi's voice sounded both mournful as well as hopeful. Indeed, she had lost a friend upon this day. She could still remember the day that you lost power in your legs. Today was much worse, but Terezi could keep her head under pressure. After examining the area with that detective nose of hers, she appears to have somewhat of an idea of what she's doing. In the distance, you can somewhat make out the sound of that horn, and you're reminded that Gamzee is still around out there.

You wish you could speak, but your mouth is against cooperating. For now, you are subject to Terezi's antics as it were with her little stuffed animals- her own brand of forensics. And before you know it, she's got a grip on that lance and is yanking it out with everything she's got. If you could feel it, you would scream. So much blood gushing out of you at once is enough to make you sick. All of these metaphors merely describe the emotions your soul still retains.

An apprehensive rush surges through you as Terezi prepares to revive you. The kiss she administers is nothing more or less from expected, and however awkward it must be for you, all you want is another chance to do this all over again. After the kiss however, nothing feels any different. A frown comes over the blind girls features with the slump of her shoulders.

"Very curious, but this isn't good at all," Terezi whines slightly before regaining her composure. If for some reason, Tavros can't be brought back, then bringing his killer to justice will be the next best thing. You believe in her.

After you're set down, your eyes are aimed up at the ceiling. How you wish you could sit up and look around, or at least tilt your eyes into your peripherals and see what Terezi was up to. Time is so strange now that you're dead and you can barely keep track of what is going on. The clicking sound of a keyboard blends in with white noise. It seems as though both a blessing and a curse when this happens. You're whisked away temporarily into dreams you can barely even remember- memories and the whole song and dance.

A voice so scratchy, filled with familiarity chilled your soul, and you became cognizant once again of your surroundings. Who's there?

"Tavros?"

You jerked, desperately trying to yank your head up. This wish would not come to fruition as you had desired, but your friend had rushed to your side without question. Oh, he found you. You tried to smile, but the way Gamzee's knees cracked into the floor made you... afraid. It sounded like he dropped his body onto the stone like a puppet. Rapidly, the highblood had swooped your body up into his arms. Dead. You were dead. You were constantly reminded that you could not feel a thing, but the physical meant pure nothing to you. Your soul was crying. Gamzee was your best friend. He was going to pull you out of this.

"Tavbro, somebody all went and made you hurt. Why would a motherfucker go and do that?"

Gamzee's cadence was shivering with an emotion you couldn't identify. You wanted to see his face, but he hadn't held your head to where you could see him. He cradled you tightly in a half-hug with one arm while the other's hand was coiled around one of your horns. Your pal was nose deep into your throat with quivering shoulders. The sounds he made almost sounded like laughter- a conflicted noise since he was bound to be riddled with tears by this point.

Maybe you were thinking too highly of yourself to think that Gamzee would cry over you. That horrible thought crossed your mind once before vanishing. No, this was wrong. Gamzee cared about you, right? Why was his chest repeatedly shaking with chuckles as those red eyes tore into yours? It was like staring into a mirage. This couldn't be real.

The zeal glossing Gamzee's eyes betrayed the friendship you thought you once had. His lips mashed themselves into yours with fervor. How long would it take for Gamzee to realize that you couldn't be brought back? How long would he taste your blood before growing sick? The seconds passed on but the highblood seemed to be overcome with perturbation. Both of his hands were now steadfastly clenching your horns. His fingers twisted themselves into your Mohawk, digging into your scalp like worms before yanking in sensation.

Your friend was squirming and soon his tongue was exploring your mouth. It felt like he couldn't possibly get you close enough to him. His moves were sloppy and soon he was quaking with circumvention.

"Tav," he groaned with a tone of voice that confused you.

Was he angry, or expecting something out of you? His arms had fastened themselves around your head, but he appeared to be frustrated with your body connected to it. You didn't know what was going on. When your friend snatched your jaw, clenching your teeth and bending your neck back into the floor, you felt ill. Your neck was exposed and your vision was once again averted away from where it needed to be. More of your blood was ample accessible, flowing out and around your head. What was he doing?

Tugging on your hair to pull you toward him, Gamzee admired his work. He smiled, but it was so hollow and dark. His cheek bones reminded you of cracked porcelain. Something was wrong with him. Something was dreadfully wrong with him.

"I've up and got you at myself, Tavros," he cooed. The way that Gamzee held his hand beneath your jaw alerted you to what he had done. You wanted to cry. "All at my motherfucking self, best friend."

No, why would he call you that? Why? He wasn't your best friend. He couldn't be anymore. Friends didn't hurt each other. There was an object in his hand beyond your current capable vision that was used to dislocate your head. Qualmish sadness couldn't numb you enough.

"Nobody ain't gonna mess with you anymore, brother."

No.

If you could, you wouldn't be able to see him anymore. Your eyes would be full of plump tears and you would close them. You would close them in hopes of never seeing him ever again. Didn't he know what he was doing? He was acting so scary. Gamzee, stop. He's scaring you. You wanted to get away from here. Wasn't there an afterlife that you could escape to? Something to take you away from this hell? This wasn't Gamzee. This wasn't supposed to happen. Everything was wrong, wrong, wrong.

"I love you, bro, more than I can up and motherfucking take."

Why?

"I ain't gonna let them have you, Tavbro."

Why are you doing this to me, Gamzee?

"I'll keep your nugbone all safe and sound."

You wish he could hear you. Instead he holds you against his chest and precedes his unsettled breathing. So many thoughts are cluttering your well severed think pan. You can't see anything but the black of Gamzee's t-shirt. None of this feels right. Not a bit. Not even once. All you know is that you feel frail, and so much of your mind hurts.

After a while though, it feels like going to sleep. Time passes in a weird way for you. It's not tranquil. It always feels like blacking out into nothingness. Pieces of your consciousness are blotted out by a paint brush you can't control. The next time that your consciousness kicks back in is when you hear whispering, frantic at the side of your head. How long has it been?

The room that you're in is nearly pitch black. The raspy sound of a straining whisper can be heard from beside you. You can't see it, but you already know who it is. You just wished that you could hear what he was saying. Every few seconds, he would step out into your vision as he paced back and forth. Something was different. Your... friend's form was so feeble. His digits were clinging at his clothes as if trying to get a grip on himself.

Tiny murmurs escaped past his lips and although you wanted to scoot closer to him to hear them, you were confined there. Resigned to what you had come to establish as your eternal hell- watching this exchange.

"I motherfucking did all that you told at me to motherfucking do. I MOTHERFUCKING DID ALL OF IT!"

His grimy nails had begun to dig inside of his hair, scratching and tearing with fervor as if he were attempting to penetrate into his own brain. Gamzee needed to get it out. Those horrible voices. You wanted to clench your eyes shut and return to that absence of existence that you had grown used to. Anything but to sit and hear this.

But you couldn't.

"I did it, motherfucker, now fix it. FIX IT! Fix it motherfucker! Motherfucking-" the juggalo screamed as he bent down and yanked up what appeared to be some puppet and shook it in his grasp. At first you were afraid it was someone's body, but no- Gamzee was talking to an actual inanimate object. Not sure if this was better or worse than your expectations. His movements were jerky, and although he wanted to rip every inch of shitty fabric on its body, he had slowly begun to deteriorate.

First it was in the arms. Gamzee's appendages grew limp. The subtle bend of his knees accompanied his dangling wrists. The puppet in his hands hung lifelessly from his palms with his panting echoing throughout the chamber.

It was slow and eventual, but he soon brought it up to his chest like a fond memory. It was a calm embrace. He had nothing. He needed something. This was his something.

A few beats of silence came over the clown. It spoke to him, and he listened with obedience. You weren't sure what to make of this situation when he'd begun to scream. The puppet was discarded and a heavy shoe beneath a raging ankle came down upon its body repeatedly like a meat tenderizer. Gamzee's hands first covered his face with shame before rolling back and seizing his own locks of hair and tugging with dark twisted ardor. With every stomp of his foot, a small whine bubbled out of Gamzee's throat. Again, and again, and again- harder, harder.

There was no satisfying crack beneath his foot, and that made Gamzee feel so disgusting. With that thought in mind, he shoved his sneaker beneath Cal before kicking him into the wall on the other side of the room where he couldn't be seen. He was tearing his hair out, and you got to watch him.

Just when this thought entered your head, Gamzee took his attention back to you. Your head was still where he had left it, of course. The look in those optics was pleading in a way you'd never really seen before. It was nearly breaking your heart. Through all of the maddening thoughts that threatened to tear him apart on the inside, he dropped it all and gazed back at you. So many times, Gamzee had been there for you when you felt trapped, or bullied, or alone. You cried on that shoulder of his more times than you could count. Gamzee always appeared so strong in the way that he was soft. He never let anything anyone said get to him. But what now?

"I never wanted this," he began.

Gamzee stumbled forward and snatched your head up just in time to collapse to the floor. As he fell onto his back, once again you were pushed into Gamzee's chest to notice the rapid rising and descending of his chest. But this time it was so timid. The boy couldn't keep himself still. He shuffled mindlessly, trying to find a comfortable position to hold you in. Gamzee moaned with misery when he finally ended scrunched up between a corner of a bookcase and a wall.

Your head was shifted and you were staring up into a pair of dark muddy eyes. The paint that once adorned Gamzee's face had disintegrated by now. Your friends mouth was wiggling without words coming forth. His eyes just traced your features, having a memory for every inch of it. Gamzee lifted his hand to run back through your hair. He ruffled it a bit, remembering the way that you would blush and laugh. But those cold eyes continued to stare off into nothing. Gamzee's mouth corkscrewed into a grimace, bared his fangs, and began to cry.

"I..."

Profound words were yet to be found by the highblood as he continued to hold Tavros down in front of him. For a split second, he felt like maybe his friend would be able to hear him this time. You couldn't do much else but watch those tears drop from the sunken craters that Gamzee's eyes had become. They fell upon your face, though you couldn't feel them. Gamzee's eyes were wide like a child's, staring down into the only light he had left in his life.

"I miss you Tavbro. I ain't got friends anymore," he whispered. "I all put Karbro and you through the wicked mud. Now I up and got these salty tears to keep me warm, and that's it."

Boiling rivers flowed over the crinkles around Gamzee's eyes. You could hear his teeth grinding together with agony.

You suddenly felt so much pity all at once. You never wanted to see Gamzee cry. No matter what, he was always so happy. No matter how many times he was told he was worthless, or ignorant, or stupid- unlike you, he didn't let it hurt his self-esteem. Even though he waited countless nights out at the beach for his lusus that sometimes never arrived, Gamzee still wore that smile. One of you had to.

But now it was Gamzee who had fallen apart, who had fallen and couldn't get back up so easily. He always helped you back into your wheelchair but now you couldn't do anything for him.

"I'm really really sorry. Just... please speak to me, Tavbro."

I'm trying to. I really am. I'm trying my hardest but I can't.

"I should be motherfucking dead."

Gamzee, please, no!

"If I was all torn up and gone too, I could up and be with you. Nobody has their understand on about how motherfucking scary this all is," Gamzee whimpered. "I feel all of this... rage, all the time, and I didn't up and ask for it. It motherfucking chose me, Tavros, and I can't cope for shit."

If you had insides, they would've been twisted into oblivion by now. You jerked your soul one last time with everything you could muster. Shaking your head from side to side but nothing would move. Your eye's wouldn't even blink. You could barely make out the sound of Gamzee's sobbing as it increased in volume. The shifting of your soul made it echo in and out like radio scramble. He pulled you close into his shoulder and the breaking of his heart was so loud, you couldn't even think or process any coherent thought. You were screaming out into this loud humming that threatened to swallow you whole. Just make it stop. Go back into the past. Make it all go away. FIX IT!

I love you, Gamzee.

The humming grew cacophonous, and your vision had just turned fuzzy like a television screen losing reception. You were pulled back from Gamzee's chest and he stared into your eyes, listening to the last echoes of your soul as it died.

Gamzee bleated with the crack of his voice.

"Tavros...?"


End file.
